


Kidnapped

by Nopennamesleft



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopennamesleft/pseuds/Nopennamesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been taken by the alphas and Derek will do anything to get him back.  Will he be in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Present

Ten days! That's how long Stiles has been missing now and I knew that his time was running out. I watched the sheriff, his thin frame haggard and worn from worry, as he walked slowly into the station. As the sheriff he knew better than anyone that after forty eight hours there was little hope of finding a missing person but he was not giving up.

And neither was I. But I had information that the sheriff lacked. I knew the Alpha Pack had grabbed him, following their trail for miles after his disappearance before I lost their scent. I knew Stiles was still alive because they would have used his death against me, left his body where I could find it to show their strength.

He was still alive because he was bait and I was a willing fish. But getting myself killed would not save him. Without Boyd and Erica my pack was weak. Hell, I didn't even have Scott and Isaac anymore and Jackson was a loose cannon with little discipline or control.

Desperate times and all that. Which is why I'm standing outside the front door of this upper middle class house, ready to beg if needed, offer my life if demanded, all in the hopes of getting the backup I had to have to save him.

"Derek." The muzzle of Argent's gun pressed a cold, deadly circle on my forehead. "What brings you here?"

"I need help killing a pack of werewolves and I thought it best to come to the experts." I'd beg for help if needed but I would keep my dignity intact as long as possible. "There's an Alpha Pack in town and they have no problem hunting humans."

The few times I had been face to face with Chris Argent I has thought his eyes were cold, the blue of the arctic but I watched them thaw as comprehension dawned in him. "They have the Stillinski kid? The sheriff's boy, Stiles?" He stepped back at my quick nod and gestured me in. I always knew Stiles would be the death of me.

"So you're here to ask for my help?" Argent lead the way into the living room and sat on the large couch. I remained on my feet unwilling to relax in my enemy's home. "Why?"

"Argent, we both know my pack is small. I've lost two members and Scott has never been part of my true pack. He'll help to save his friend but even with him we will be outnumbered. You don't want a blood thirsty pack in your town and I want my pack member back. I was hoping we could help each other out."

"You consider him pack? Even as a human?" Argent leaned comfortably on his couch looking relaxed except for his constant twisting of the gun in his hands.

"You don't have to be a wolf to be pack. He's pack and our friend. He's Allison's friend too. Will you help? He's running out of time."He was about to refuse, I could see it in the cooling of his eyes. My heart twisted painfully in my chest as my hope died.

"Dad, Stiles is my friend." Allison stood at the top of the stairs her face confident as she stared down at her father. "Plus, you said as the oldest female that I was the leader. As that leader it is my choice to help Hale get Stiles back." Her eyes, when they met mine, were filled with anger and pain. I would have to watch my back with her or find it filled with wolf bane tipped arrows.

"I know where they are now. How soon until you can be ready?" I wanted to shift my weight, to pace the floor with my nervous energy but forced myself to remain still, act like I was in control of my emotions and not losing my mind with worry.

The crazy teen had worked his way under my skin somehow. While I was hunting my uncle and fighting the kanima Stiles had found a way past my defenses that kept me from caring or feeling. He had become more than just pack; he had become important to me.

"Tonight." Allison glanced at her father who nodded. "We can be ready for tonight."

"Thank you. We will meet you at Cooper's Bridge at sundown." I quickly backed out of the living room my wolf growling at me not to turn my back on the enemy. I was thankful for the backup no matter what form it took. Sending a quick text to Scott and the rest, I made my way to my last stop. The one that would be the hardest.

Eight days ago

I could hear her screams; they echoed through the rafters of the old barn and chilled my bones. Wolves can take a lot of damage, their bodies can heal most wounds given the time, but that doesn't lessen the pain. Erica was very much in pain and there was nothing I could do about it except make sure I didn't make the same mistake twice.

"Pretty human. She screams so wonderfully, like music." The Head Alpha leaned down, cupping my chin in his hand, forcing my head up. "I thought you might want to watch this next part. Do you know how many feet of intestines a body holds? Huumm? I don't either but I thought it would be fun to find out." The sick fuck held out a measuring tape and tapped me on the nose with it.

"Don't hurt her anymore. Please." I kept my eyes down trying to act as submissive as possible. After two days with the Alpha Pack I had quickly discovered how easy going Derek had been all this time. I challenged him at every turn, back talked him, acted like a smart ass and constantly threw out barbs and jabs to annoy him and the worst he had ever done was smack my head into my steering wheel.

Watching the Alpha pack I began to realize how lucky I was. But because I was a weak human they didn't punish me. Oh they hit me, threw me against walls, and kicked the crap out of me but they saved the real punishment for Erica and Boyd because they could heal. It was like the whipping boys of ancient times, they would pay the price for my transgressions with their flesh and blood.

He dragged me down the aisle toward the large stalls in the back. I stumbled to my knees, pushed roughly from behind, falling into the still warm blood that soaked the ground below Erica. It was as if they had painted her red, a dark sticky paint that covered her from her chin to her feet. Pain and panic filled her eyes. Oh, God, this was all my fault.

I turned in time to see the Head Alpha shift, his jaw elongating, filling with sharp teeth as his hands lengthened until they were each tipped with deadly claws. "Please," I begged, wrapping my hand around his knee to slow his approach. "I tell you what you want. Just don't hurt her anymore."

I don't know why he didn't ask Boyd and Erica. I'm sure they would have told him to stop the pain but the alpha seemed to want it from me. "I no longer require **that** knowledge. We have already sniffed out your little pack. They are weak. Do you think they will come for you? Their little human?"

"Yes, they'll come for all of us." I tried to catch Erica's eyes, to show her there was hope and she just needed to hang on, endure a little more and we would all be saved but they were closed with exhaustion and despair. "Please, please don't hurt her anymore."

The alpha smiled all teeth and domination. "And what will you do for me? What will you do so that I keep my claws out of her pretty white flesh?"

"I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt her anymore." And with that I sealed my fate.

*********************** Present

As I approached the door my nerves were wound even tighter than when I faced Argent. I swallowed twice before ringing the bell. My hands curled and fisted at my sides as I listened to the movement behind the door.

"Sheriff, sir. I have some information about Stiles that you need to hear. My I come in?"

I was ushered quickly inside and into the kitchen where I was offered a cup of strong black coffee. "You always seem to be in the middle of things Hale. You and my son. Do you know where he is, what has happened to him?" The sheriff was a strong man, I could smell the desperation rolling off of him in waves but his voice never broke or gave his emotions away.

"I know who took him but getting him back will not be easy and we can't use normal means." I met his eyes and let my alpha side out, eyes flashing red for the merest of seconds. "They're not human."

For the second time in less than an hour, I had a gun pointed to my head. "What are you?"

"Your son's only hope of getting out alive and a werewolf." The sheriff's eyes widened in disbelief. "I'll show you but I'd rather not have a bullet in my brain." As the gun was lowered I shifted into my beta form making sure to keep still as the sheriff decided whether he should kill me or not.

"And Stiles knows what you are? This is the secret he's been keeping all this time?" I see now where Stiles gets his strength. Faced with a monster in the kitchen the sheriff was almost unfazed, his mind processing important information while ignoring what most humans would fear.

"He's known from almost the beginning."

"Were you the cause of all the deaths?" His hand tightened briefly on the gun but he didn't raise it against me.

"No, I tried to stop them just like I'm trying to stop what is happening now. But I can't do it on my own and I think the time for secrets is over."

"I'm guessing you have a plan." With a quick nod in my direction he removed the badge from his chest. "As his father, I need you to tell me everything." And I did.

Six Days Ago

I sipped slowly from the cup offered by Erica, the water causing my broken lips to sting slightly but it was nothing compared to the agony that racked the rest of my body. I was one continuous bruise it's color changing from a deep purple of the newest ones to the faded green and sickly yellow of the older.

"Stiles, you can't keep this up. He'll kill you." Erica cushioned my head on her knees, eyes haunted as she stared down at me. I could see the horror she felt, the sickness as she looked at the wounds that covered my body. "Just do what they want. Give him whatever he wants so that he stops hurting you."

But I couldn't. I couldn't give in and I could never tell her why. Erica's head lifted, her nose flared delicately even with the smudge of dirt marring it's perfection. **HE** was coming again. It was time for another session. "Just give him what he wants," Erica begged as the door opened.

"Yes, my pretty pet. Give me what I want and I'll stop having to mark up that gorgeous body of yours." Erica cowed away as he grabbed me from the floor and pulled me toward him. "Does she even know what I want from you?" A frantic head shack was my only response.

The alpha dragged to the now familiar room, it's brightly lit interior allowing me to see all the toys lined up waiting for me. "This doesn't have to happen. Just give in to me. Is all this pain worth the life of those weak wolves? They've caused you nothing but pain. All your loyalty, they don't deserve it. Ask me to stop and it will all be over."

"And you'll kill them. No. Why is this so important to you? I couldn't stop you from killing them. Why play this game?" Red eyes raked over my body as the alpha slowly licked his lips. Crap, this was gonna be a bad one.

"What's life without games to spice it up? I'm going to break you, little human. It will be your word that kills them, your weakness. It will make your pain more sweet to the taste."

"Fuck you," I hissed.

"Maybe next time. I have other plans for today." With a dramatic flip of his wrist, the alpha revealed his newest toy. A long black leather handle that split into nine thinner strips at the end. Each leather strip had a silver ball attached to its end. Cat 'o nine tails my brains helpful supplied for me.

The Alpha's cruel smile widened as he scented my fear and heard my heart rate increase. There was no reason to try to hide my terror. I was learning to use it instead, acknowledging that my fear was my body's healthy response to life threatening situations and I should not feel ashamed, I was able to meet the alpha's stare with my own.

"Once I break you, you'll make such a pretty toy."

"You are seriously one sick, perverted fuck." The blow stunned me, collapsing me to my knees. By the time my ears stopped ringing and my vision cleared I was strung up against the wall, ropes digging into my flesh and the sound of the whip being flicked across the floor adding to my knowledge that I was in for a painful night.

The first lash stole the breath from my body cutting off any sound I would have made with a strangled gasp. I was determined to take this abuse. I wouldn't fail my pack.

By the eighth lash I had bitten through my lower lip and could no longer hold my cries in. "Ask me to stop. Just two little words. Here I'll help. Please, stop. Just two words and all your pain will be over."

"Here's your two words: hell no." Probably not my best come back. It was missing my usual snark and wit but it conveyed my meaning fairly clearly and after the tenth lash I had passed out.

Present

Cooper's Bridge had long been abandoned, it's covered sides crumbling into the dry stream bed below it. Beyond its decaying beams lay the remains of Cooper's farm and the current residence of the Alpha Pack. It had taken me this long to find them. I could only pray that it wasn't too late for Stiles.

The powerful hum of Jackson's Porsche alerted me to his approach before I could even see the headlights. The silver car pulled up next to mine and Jackson and Lydia emerged.

"Don't tell me it's not safe for me to be here," Lydia hissed. She pulled a rifle out of the back of the car. "I'm not stupid. I had Allison set me up with a weapon."

I wanted to argue but I could tell by the resigned set of Jackson's shoulders that it was a moot point. I needed all the help I could get tonight. I just hope I wouldn't have her blood added to my conscience by dawn.

While I was meeting Lydia's determined stare two more cars pulled up. The sheriff walked quickly toward me with his hand resting on Scott's shoulder. Isaac followed closely behind, a silent shadow in his dark leather.

"Are you sure this is where they're keeping my son?" The sheriff had always reminded me of a loyal hound, gentle and kind but watching him as he approached I saw that I was not the only alpha wolf tonight. He may be human but at that moment the sheriff was pure predator.

"I've been searching out their trail for days. This is where they are staying, I'm sure of it. I would not have pulled you all in if I had not been positive. We're only going to have one shot at this."

The sheriff nodded eyes as cold as I had ever seen them. "I am aware of the danger. If we don't get him they will either kill him or take off with him."

"Yes" The darkest part of my soul added 'if he's still alive' but I kept that depressing thought to myself.

The Argents were the last to arrive, their sleek SUVs moving almost silently through the dark. A handful of hunters exited led by Allison and her father.

I bowed and tilted my head slightly in Chris's direction in thanks. I could see the widening in his eyes, his understanding of my gesture. "Let's see the layout Derek. I want to have a closer look before we commit to your plan."

Pulling a map of the area out of my car I spread it across the hood so we could all see. Ten days. My heart twisted at the thought of what we would find after so long.

Four Days Ago

"Tell him to stop, Stiles. Just do what he wants." Boyd's voice cut through my red haze of pain. I could barely make out his chained form because of the blood that had dripped down my face and into my eyes. I was trying so hard not to break, trying not to betray my pack with my weakness.

The alpha ran his tongue slowly up my back dipping into each cut, licking the blood from the wound. I held back as much of the hiss of pain as I could knowing that my agony just urged him to hurt me more.

"So very sweet, aren't you, my little human?"

"Not yours. I'll never be yours."

His response was to dig his tongue deeper into a wound on my lower back, the roughness of it scraping my nerve endings sending new shoots of pain up and down my spine. I couldn't hold in the high pitched keen that escaped, pitiful and weak it seemed to linger in the air.

"Maybe pain is not the answer. It could be that you respond more to a carrot than the stick. Do you want a carrot?" The hands on my body gentled, stroking softly down my side and over my hips. The alpha slid me backwards across the table forcing my arms up over my head to the limit of the chains that held me down.

Boyd understood before I did, his roar shaking the rafters with as much strength as he shook his chains. "Don't, don't! Why don't you ask me? I'll give you whatever it is you want but just don't, God, please."

I could feel the alphas smile against my back. "Beg me boy. I'll even make it quick for him. All you have to do is beg me to stop." I screwed my eyes shut blocking out the view of a horrified Boyd and tried to think of happier days as the alpha pulled down the shredded remains of my pants.

Oh! So gay guys don't find me attractive but psycho werewolves can't keep their hands off of me. I'm fucking cursed.

His thumbs ran down my ass prying me open as something large and blunt was pressed against me. I couldn't help but tense, tightening my ring into a small pucker.

The chuckle made the air in my lungs freeze. "That's it my boy. Make me work for it. I just love it when I have to force my way in." I screamed, long unending wails but I never begged him, never asked him to stop. Images flashed, my blood on the floor like one of those weird modern art paintings, the amber eye of a peeking Tom wolf as he watched through a knot in the wood, and tears streaming down Boyd's face as he begged the alpha to stop. Then blackness.

Present

I held back the sneeze as I watched he hunters dissolve into the wood as they made their way to the back of the barn. We were all liberally coated with a blue powder to mask out scent from the alpha pack. Stiles would be making Smurf jokes. My knees locked briefly at the wave of pain that thought brought. I desperately wanted my motor mouthed human back safe.

Releasing a long breath through my nose I finally admitted that I had begun thinking of him as mine long before he was taken from me. Hyper, annoying, non-stop babbling, and completely loyal, Stiles had become an important member of my pack. Important to me.

Pulling myself back to the here and now, I motioned Scott and Jackson toward the left hand side as I moved to the right with the sheriff. Isaac and the girls were left facing the front of the barn, it's once cheery red paint now the color of old blood in the weak light of the half moon.

I hoped it wasn't an omen of things to come.

Two Days Ago

He pounded into me, his hands surely adding a newer layer of fresh dark bruises on top of the older green ones along my hips and back. Sharp nails sunk deep gripping my sides as he tilted my ass for a better angle. Better for him, not so much for me.

"You'll never be his pack now. Even if he came for you, you'd be nothing but an omega, worthless, unwanted. You know he'll smell me all over you, know that you are mine and will always be mine. You continue to hold out hope for something you will never have."

With a guttural howl he came, pulling out suddenly so that he left a trail of spunk across my shoulders and back. With creepily gentle hands he rubbed the liquid across my back, massaging it into my skin and open wounds.

I wanted to snark at him. Make some comment on how unsanitary this was and that I was most likely going to catch some form of furry gangrene but I couldn't find the energy. I knew I was nearing the end. I wasn't broken. Not yet.

But I was cracked.

Present

The tension knotted my shoulders and I rolled my neck to relieve the pressure, allowing my wolf out at the same time. The quick intake of breath to my left was the only indicator that the sheriff was less than accustomed to the reality of werewolves.

Something to worry about after I had recovered Stiles.

Argent had said ten minutes and they would be in place. Glancing at my watch I counted down the last few seconds, the sheriff a mass of barely contained rage and energy at my side.

Five seconds left. I forced my alpha form, never having felt the need to shift this far before. Muscle and fur rippled, bones scraped and tendons stretched with in my body. I raised by head to the halfling moon howling out the call to attack.

NOW!

My body thrummed in pain to the beat of my heart. The dried blood and semen that covered me was a dull itch, just enough of an irritation to draw my attention to it. Heartbeat, twinge of hot pain, dull itch, and repeat. I was in hell.

"I can smell your surrender. Beg me and it's over." He leaned over me tilting my head upward so that I was forced to meet his red edged eyes, madness and evil lurking behind dark lashes. "Such a wolf you'll be when I make you mine."

I could feel the crack widening, becoming a fissure, seconds from the final, endless break.

And Derek's howl cut through the night, cut through the darkness and despair bringing hope. Or in my case, bringing the snark. "I don't beg, or sit, or roll over. But when Derek gets his claws on you, he'll take you to obedience school for good. We'll see who's begging then."

I smiled even as I saw his fist rise for the blow. I smiled through the blood and into the darkness.

NOW!

The Argents hit the back of the barn first, guns shots ringing in the night accompanying the flashes of the flare guns and billows of the smoke bombs. I barely paused at the barn door, needing only seconds to tear the wood from its hinges, tossing it over the sheriff's head before charging in.

The barn reeked of blood, pain, and fear. Stiles' blood. I could also smell Erica and Boyd and felt a brief pang of guilt that I had never even thought twice about them since Stiles had been taken.

A howling form charged at me through the smoke. The sheriff sent three staccato shots directly into his brain, dropping the wolf at my feet. "Is he dead?"

"A bullet to the brain kills us just as quickly as it does the average human."

"Good to know." He shouldered past me, entering the cloud of smoke with his gun held ready.

I followed the strong scent of Stiles' blood deeper into the huge barn. A huge rust colored alpha stepped out of one of the stalls and turned to face me. "Took you long enough, little wolf. Sadly you are too late."

The aguish cry from behind me was the sound track for the tearing of my heart. A roar, deep and fury filled ripped the air leaving sudden silence in its wake. My roar, my pain.

It's as if a dam broke spilling out the alpha pack from every direction. I could hear the gun fire from the back and the snarls of my wolves somewhere off to my side. I ignored it all, focused completely on the head alpha.

He lifted a bloody hand to his lips and licked the redness from his finger tips. "Such a tasty young man. Pity."

I've never been one for words and I wasn't about to waste them on the bastard in front of me. Sprinting the last few feet I drove my hands deep into his abdomen, lifting him off the floor with my momentum. He tore at my throat and shoulders but the pain meant nothing to me, only revenge.

Gaining leverage with a foot to my knee the alpha pushed himself backwards pulling my claws from his stomach as he fell backwards. A dark shinned alpha dropped from the rafters, landing across my shoulders, forcing me briefly to my knees.

His neck made a satisfying snap as I twisted it and threw his body across the aisle but the rust colored alpha had managed to pull himself to his feet. I could smell his blood, coppery with a strange oily scent.

I ducked briefly as Scott sailed over my head, slamming into a post, breath and wits knock out of him. The sheriff quickly stood between the downed teen and the oncoming alpha member, giving Scott a chance to regain his feet.

In a blur he rushed me, driving me backwards, fighting to stay upright. He tore furrows in my chest and sank his teeth savagely into my shoulder doing his best to rip out a large chunk. The logical part of me understood his tactics: cause as much pain to his victim as possible but he had already destroyed my heart, killing what I had just discovered was the only thing worth living for.

Revenge isn't best served cold; it's best when it's hot and wet and a bloody heart held in the palm of your hand. Funny, the movies actually got this right.

"Holy shit Derek," Scott whispered in awe tinged fear. I dropped the fist sized piece of meat and followed the smell of human blood, followed the scent of Stiles.

 


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles survived the alphas but will he heal. Will the boy they knew ever be the same.

Two Days Later

The little high pitched beeping had to die, slowly with much screaming and whimpers for mercy. Really, here I am trying to be peacefully dead and I get a chorus of bleeping angels to sing me on my way.

"His heart rate just changed. Someone get the doctor, I think he might be coming around."

"Stiles? Son? Can you hear me? Come on son, I need you to wake up."

I didn't want to wake up. The darkness was painless, I knew that the light would only bring pain but my father's voice dragged me upward until I blinked weakly into his blurry face.

"'ad?" My voice didn't seem to work. I had a fleeting vision of my life as a mute, filling pages of notebooks with my rambles and trying to force people to read them. Shudder at the thought.

"Stiles Honey. Don't try to talk right now. They just took the tube out and your throat is pretty raw." Mrs. McCall gently brushed her hand across my forehead as she checked all the plastic wires and tubes that sprouted from my body. My Dad's hand tightened briefly in my grip.

Derek stood by the window, his body tense as if ready for flight. I tried to smile but from the look on his face it must have been more of a grimace. He started to move toward the bed but stopped as the doctor walked in.

It seems I will live. I squeezed my Dad's hand again and slipped back to sleep as the doctor droned on about the care my broken body would need over the next few weeks. Not broken, I reminded myself just before I fell asleep, just cracked.

_________________________________________________

I could hear the change in his heartbeat; the slow steady thump had been my focus every time I stepped into the room to watch over Stiles' broken form. His face was swollen to the point that he was almost unrecognizable, a broken cheekbone, two black eyes and a skull fracture from the blow that nearly ended his life.

"His heart rate just changed. Someone get the doctor, I think he might be coming around." I moved closer to watch as the Sheriff clutched his son's hand and stroked one of the few un-bruised sections on his temple with a tender touch.

"Stiles? Son? Can you hear me? Come on son, I need you to wake up."

Stiles looked surprised as his eyes opened, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on his father. His voice was raspy and rough from the tube and I could see him start to panic before Mrs. McCall moved to his side and reassured him.

He looked briefly at me, his face warping into a weak semblance of his usual cheerful smile. But I could smell the fear that permeated the room as he realized I was here, fear of me. I hadn't smelled this level of fear from him since those early days when I was pushing him against walls and threatening his life on an almost daily basis.

I backed away giving the frightened boy as much room as possible, not wanting to add to the pain he had already gone through. The doctor entered and checked over Stiles as he drifted back asleep. I slipped out while the Sheriff was occupied with Stiles' diagnosis and the growing list of treatments and therapies that would be needed to make him whole in the weeks to come.

__________________________________________________

I sat staring at my steering wheel, jeep idling in the drive way as my thoughts ran circles around each other in my head. Round and round like rabid little puppies chewing up my brain matter and pissing on my neurons. I needed a mental leash.

But the crazy alpha's words keep chasing their tails through my brain; not pack, not wanted, omega and worthless. I don't know why I am even bothering to go today. I guess I needed to face my fear, I wouldn't let **_him_** win.

My temples pounded to the beat of my heart, the rising fear causing my body to tense and tremble as I fought to keep my terror in check.

Dad's soft knock on my window set my heart leaping into my throat. Damn, when will I stop being so jittery. High strung did not even begin to describe my current state of nerves and anxiety.

"Are you planning on spending the day in the driveway or are you going to the pack meeting. I think everybody is looking forward to seeing you outside the hospital environment." Dad's warm smile lightened the pressure that had been building in my chest. His steady support and love had helped me recover most of the lost pieces of myself.

"I keep thinking I'm going to have a panic attack as soon as I pull out of the driveway. He's dead; he can't hurt me anymore but..." I faltered, at loss for words, something that was almost impossibility for me.

"Do you want me to call Scott or Derek and let them know you're not coming? You can make the next meeting. There is nothing important today, just a normal group of teenage werewolves gathering to talk shop."

I snorted at the casual way dad threw out the word werewolves. He had taken the whole pack thing in stride. Seems we have a lot more in common than our love of curly fries and Clint Eastwood movies. I knew he would make the call and the pack would be sympathetic and understanding but underneath they would be hurt, wondering if I was avoiding them, if my...ordeal had changed the way I thought about them, about werewolves.

And truthfully it had. I was scared. Scared of my best friend, of the pack, of Boyd and Erica who I had risked my life to spare, and especially Derek, all red eyed and alpha-like. I know it didn't make sense but when did panic and fear come with a logic button.

"Thanks dad, but I'm going. I'm just still a little shaky." Shooting him my best goofy son grin I backed out and drove out of view before pulling over to shake and quiver. My stomach heaved and rolled but I held my breakfast down. There was no way I was showing up reeking, at least of a wolf's nose, of vomit. It was bad enough I would be rank with the stench of panic and fear.

I pulled myself together and glanced at the time.

"Shit, I'm late!"

___________________________________________________

It's funny how life seems to want to balance things out. For ten days I had lost him and another ten days for him to recover enough to return to me, to the pack. It was just a pack meeting, that's what we were all telling ourselves but it was really something special. It was the first pack meeting with Stiles back.

The bruises had faded from his body; his back covered with marks most of which slowly turning into pinkish scars that would silver with age until they were just fine lines etched across his skin. His face was still puffy, cheek bone slowly healing from that final, brutal punch that had almost ended his life.

My pack twitched as they waited, listening for the familiar sound of the jeep, the crisp smell of Stiles. He was late, which caused a tingle of unease in the pit of my stomach. Stiles was never late, usually the opposite, the first to arrive all bubbly and bright. I hoped we had not lost that.

Boyd and Erica sat plastered next to each other on one end of the couch still unsure of the reception back into the pack. They had been victims too. Had been the leverage used to try to break Stiles. Their haunted eyes as they looked over Stiles' wounds in the hospital let us know that they had seen it all. They didn't speak of it and no one was ready to ask. Maybe we all just seem to agree that it was Stiles' tale to tell.

Allison sat half in Scott's lap, both teens draped across the large recliner. She no longer had anger in her eyes when she looked at me, pain yes, but the anger had dissipated. My relationship with the Argents had become surprisingly civil in the last week. Chris had actually patted me on the back during one of his visits to the hospital. Life had become surreal.

"Where the hell is he?" grumbled Jackson from the far side of the room. "Are you sure he knows about the meeting today. The pain pills have him pretty loopy. Crap, did someone remind him 'cause I bet he forgot."

"I texted him twice today." Isaac twisted his hands nervously. "He didn't respond to either one. He hasn't smelled right."

"He was beaten and almost killed by a crazed alpha; of course he's not smelling right." Jackson snarled remembering the image of Stiles so battered, laying on the dirty floor, a broken heap that he took for dead the first moment he saw him.

"It's not just pain. It's more." Shrugging Isaac tucked himself deeper into the couch unwilling to argue with the blond beta.

Allison reached over and stroked his knee. "We'll make sure he gets better. It's just going to take some time."

I was the first to hear Stiles jeep on the drive, the turning of my head alerting the rest of the pack. Scott jumped up practically dumping Allison on the ground in his hast to greet Stiles at the door.

We could all hear the slow tread of Stiles' feet as he approached the door. Gone was the bouncy stride, replaced with a painful shuffle that caused my heart to ache. Whatever it took, I swore to myself, I would make him whole again.

Stiles settled in his usual place on the couch and was immediately surrounded by the pack. Scott draped a casual arm around his shoulders and gentle pulled him closer. Isaac sat on the floor resting against his knees while Boyd and Erica snuggled on the other side of Stiles.

The flash a jealousy startled me. Somehow Stiles had become mine and I didn't like to see the others touching him so openly. I wanted to be the one sitting next to him on the couch, my arm around him, to be able to pull his head gently onto my shoulder.

So I did what I always do with feelings that I don't know how to face. I shove them down and pretend they don't exist. "Now that we are all here, we need to talk about the new training schedule. I think we all now know the importance of being a strong, cohesive pack." My unease translated into grumpy and a growl worked its way out.

Stiles flinched. My betas flashed eyes of amber and neon blue in my direction. Even Allison's eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. "And everyone thinks I'm the asshole around here. Way to make Stiles feel welcome."

I knew Jackson was right but couldn't let my weakness show. I was the alpha and my position had to be one of strength. They all dropped their eyes as my low rumbled spilled across the room.

The room filled with the rapid sound of Stiles' heart, the smell of fear crashed over me like storm waves on a beach forcing my wolf to the forefront, intent on killing and maiming whatever had threatened my pack. The rest of the pack reacted with the same intensity, their eyes flashing neon blue and shining amber as they pushed their way closer to Stiles, wanting to protect him and offer the comfort of pack.

Unfortunately, Stiles found little comfort in our actions. Scott wrapped his arms around his best friend and sent **MY** human into a panic attack.

Arms flailing Stiles forced his way off the couch and backed away from the pack, tripping over the coffee table in his scramble to put as much distance between us as possible. He ended with his back pressed against the far way, chest heaving and eyes wide.

Jackson's fist left a hole through the wall, "I wish we could go back and kill that bastard again."

"Jackson, calm down. It's not helping. Everybody go home except Scott. We will try to calm him down and get him back to his dad."

Reluctantly my pack left. Erica sobbing against Boyd about how sorry she was and that Stiles should had given him whatever he wanted because nothing was worth this.

__________________________________________________

I was blinded by the red tinted darkness, the voodoo drums pounding in my ears driving me backwards until I could go no farther. I struggled and fought my way back, tearing my way through the blood colored vision and pushing the drumming out until it was once again just my heartbeat. _Cracked not broken._

My first clear vision after I pull my wits together and gather what dignity I had left like beggar rags around me was Derek and Scott kneeling just out of reach, crooning softly to me like I was a trapped animal they were trying to calm.

"Where did everyone go?"

"I sent them home. Maybe a full pack meeting was a little too much for your first day back?"

"He was doing fine until you growled at him."

"I didn't growl at him. I..." Derek stopped, visibly calming himself. "Sorry. Do you want Scott to drive you home? Or I can get your dad to pick you up."

"No, don't tell dad. He's been worried enough about me. I'll go." Seeing Scott reach out for me made me flinch. Panic rose like bile in the back of my throat and I wondered if I would ever be the same, if I would ever be able to look at my best friend again and not be afraid.

_Just cracked, not broken, just cracked._

The nearly simultaneous inhale from both wolves jolted me out of my mental spiral. I guess I was talking out loud again. From the pained and worried expressions on their faces I must be not be looking very stable right now.

"I'm okay. It's just a panic attack. I've been having them recently. I'll be fine, don't worry." I gave them both my best Stiles grin but neither seemed to be relieved. If I interpreted the glance that passed between them correctly, they were even more worried than before. _Shit, now I have my dad and my pack worried._

Wait; scratch that, NOT my pack. I keep getting myself in deeper by thinking that I am part of them. I guess I was lucky that they pulled me out along with Erica and Boyd. Having a father for the sheriff had some life saving perks.

"Hey, Scott, I'm going to be fine. I just need a little more time. I'm sorry I messed up your pack meeting Derek. It won't happen again." I tried to make a dignified exit but I think the full out sprint to my car ruined the effect.

I was half way home before the tears blinded me and I had to pull over or crash. Fear, pain, and loss clinched my chest and I let the sobs poor out. Who would have thought that surviving could be such a disappointment?


	3. Part Three

He watched me through the front window as I lurked across the street, my eyes hardly leaving the second story window.  He probably would have called the police if he wasn’t already the sheriff and well aware that I was watching with worry and not with malice.  Stiles seemed to be getting worse and had withdrawn almost completely since the disastrous pack meeting.  

In school he ghosted through the halls and skipped out on lunch.  During classes he was quiet and still, a fact that had teachers recommending he see the school councilor as well as the therapist.  The worst was the fact that he quit going to lacrosse practice. 

Scott had arrived at his doorstep that afternoon, driven by me with a firm command to repeat ever word precisely when he returned.  Stiles had his mask firmly in place, joking that the coach would hold his place on the bench until he was feeling better and could rejoin the team but Scott, even with his awful wolf senses could tell he was lying.  Something needed to be done.

Pushing my hands into jacket pockets with enough force to spilt the seams, _damn_ , I crossed the street and knocked on the door before I could lose the little courage I had left.  Bring on the hunters, crazed alpha packs, and certain death; I could handle those without a flinch but a traumatized boy was almost enough to have me turn and run.

The door opened before I raised my hand to the bell.  The sheriff looked as haggard as the day I brought him information of the alpha pack and hope that I could return his son alive.  Different cause but same heartache; a hurting loved one is never easy.

“He’s not eating.  He doesn’t sleep through the night and wakes with the most awful of screams.  I have tried to get him to talk to his therapist, the counselor, or me.  Hell, I’ve tried to get him to go and talk to you but he just repeats that he doesn’t belong.  But what scares me most is when he doesn’t know I’m near and he whispers to himself that he’s just cracked, not broken.”

The doorframe whined under the strength of my grip and I had to close my eyes for a moment to regain my composure.  It would do Stiles little good if I showed up to comfort him and wolfed out adding to his existing terror.

“Can I talk to him?  I don’t know if it will help but can I try?”

Nodding the sheriff stepped out of the way and motioned to the stairs.  It was the first time I had ever entered Stiles’ room through the doorway and his disbelieving double-take as I walked into his room brought a brief smile to my lips.

_________________________________________________________________

  

Pushing off my desk I let my head lean back against my chair as I spun round and round.  Spinning is _good_.  It fills my brain with dizzy, tilted thoughts and keeps the darkness at bay; at least until I slow down and then those blood tinted fears slowly work their way back until I push off again.  Spinning is **_good_**.

I could feel the queasy, sick sensation building in my stomach but even that was better than the dark thoughts; thoughts of being unwanted, a hindrance, and NOT PACK.  Plus, it’s not like I will throw up.  You have to eat for that to happen and food and I were not of speaking terms these days.  My therapist says that it is my subconscious way of trying to reassert some sort of control over my life but I just say I’m not hungry.  _Stupid shrink_.

The soft tread outside my door didn’t even faze me until I noticed that what I thought was my Dad had a black, leather jacket on.  Shit, I about fell out of my chair at Derek’s feet.  I would have, my chair tilting wildly but he reached out and righted it before I could even squeak.

“Derek.  Hi.  Hi, Derek.”  Hey, give me time and I might even work my way up to three word sentences.

Derek sat on the edge of my bed tucked in on himself and lowered so that he didn’t loom over me.  It was enough of a change that I found myself reaching out to touch his shoulder with concern.

“Is everything okay?”  And look, a three word sentence.

“The pack has been worried about you.  You don’t come to meetings anymore and we barely see you outside school.  I don’t see you at all except when I’m watching out for you.”

“You’re watching out for me?  When?”  Then my panic meter went off and the sirens screamed adrenalin through my blood stream making my heart pound.  Why was he watching out for me?  Did they miss some of the alphas?  Were they out to get revenge?  I was seconds away from another (crap, the fifth this week and it was only Tuesday) panic attack when Derek wrapped me in his arms and held me close.

“Shhh, Stiles.  It’s okay.  Everything is okay.  I would never let anything hurt you.  Never.  I swear I will keep you safe.  I swear!”  He went on in the same vein, promising to keep me safe from harm as he rocked me in his arms.  If I hadn’t felt so safe, something I hadn’t felt since I was first taken, I would have been embarrassed at being so girly.  Not that I would ever say that out loud.  Some of the scariest people I know are girls.

Just then my dad walked in giving Derek a modified version of his evil eye.  “He started hyperventilating and his heart rate jumped.  He seems to be calming down now but how often is he having panic attacks like this?”

“He hasn’t had them this bad since…” Dad broke off, looking at me as if for forgiveness.

“Since mom died.  They haven’t been this bad since then.  But I’m okay now, really.”

Neither looked convinced but Derek slowly released me and left to follow my Dad down the stairs.  I waited until I heard the door open and close before I pushed off my desk, setting my chair in a wild whirl.  Spinning!  Spinning is good.


	4. Part Four

At first I thought it was Derek doing his ‘stalk Stiles’ routine.  I guess he feels guilty about the alpha pack taking me hostage.  He has been trying to show me that I am pack but I know it’s just guilt.  I got all messed up trying to keep his betas alive so he can’t just dump me.  It would be like taking Lassie to the pound after she saved Timmy from the well, just not done.

My tire was flat and I was struggling to fit the jack under without it slipping on the loose gravel of the shoulder.  I could see the black boots topped by black jeans as they walked my way.  As he came closer I could see the leather jacket out of the corner of my eye.  Derek to the rescue again.  

“Can I give you a hand?”  I must have jumped a foot because that was not Derek’s growly voice; it was warm and happy like the summer sun if sunshine had a voice.  

I cradled my hand against my chest, having cut it as I jumped in terror from an offer of help, the gash oozing blood slowly through my grip.  “Shit, I am so sorry.  Here let me.”  Sunny, as my tangled brain dubbed him for both his voice and his hair, kneeled down and wrapped a handkerchief around my cut.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.  I saw you on the side of the road and I just wanted to lend a hand.  It’s getting dark and changing a tire on a shoulder like this can be tricky.  Damn, sorry again.  I kinda babble when I am making a fool out of myself.”

He smiled with his whole face, from pewter grey eyes to a small crinkle in his nose.  He even had dimples on both cheeks.  I keep the “huba huba” to myself.  “I babble too and I don’t even have to make a fool out of myself to do it, it just comes naturally.  The babble, not the being a fool.  Though if you ask my friends they would tell you I am both and God, I will stop talking now.”

Sunny just smiled through my ramble, his hand lingering over mine.  “I wish you wouldn’t.  Stop talking that is.  I like hearing you talk.”  A blush tipped his ears and he gave the most bashful nod as he broke eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t usually come on to strange men this way.  I’m Jack.”   Looking down at my hand, which was still tucked in his larger palm, he gave it a slow shake before letting me go.  “So can I give you a hand?  With changing the tire?”

“I’d really like that.  I can’t seem to keep it steady and I kinda have a phobia about jeeps falling on me.  Long story.  I’m Stiles.”

Jack stilled and looked guilty for a second.  “Are you the sheriff’s son?”

“Are there that many Stileses running around?”

“Look I’m going to just come clean with you right now.  I’m Jack Veneur, Chris’ cousin.  I’ve come to stay with him for a while and, God, this looks bad.  I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of freak that’s trying to stalk you are something.”  Jack stood quickly and backed away.  “Maybe I should leave?”

“Or you could help me change my tire.  As far as I know Derek and Chris have a truce going and I’m not a werewolf so I should be safe.  Are you hunting?”

“No!  I’m not in the family business.  Actually, that’s why I’m staying with Chris.  He doesn’t push for the kill like Mom does.”  Kneeling back down he made quick work with the jack and had my tire off in moments as he talked.  “My mom is Victoria’s younger sister. Not that our families are close, I haven’t seen Uncle Chris since I was seven and Allison was still in diapers.”

Pulling my spare up, he fixed it in place, spinning the nuts and tightening them with a competent flare.  I watched the subtle play of the tendons in his hands as he worked with the tools.  What is it about men in leather jackets that makes me so wound up?  

“Okay, that should hold you until you get a new tire.”  Dusting the gravel off his hands, Jack handed me my tools and carried my tire to the back of my jeep.  “I don’t know if you would be interested but I would like to see you again.  Maybe for coffee or something.  I would understand if you said no being part of the local pack in all.”

“I’m not pack.  I’m just a friend of one of the wolves _.”  Never pack, never wanted, especially now_ the memory of the dead alpha whispered in my ear.  “Coffee sounds nice.”  I wasn’t going to feel guilty about this.  I wasn’t pack.  I didn’t need Derek’s permission to have coffee with a cute, older man that reminded me so intensely of my alpha.  No, not my alpha because I am NOT PACK.

I kept the guilt pressed deep inside while we exchanged phone numbers and made a tentative plan to meet at the Coffee Hut the following day.  Once in my car I found myself pulling over after just a few miles when the tears blinded me.  

I thought of the pain I went through as my body healed.  Some days it hurt worse to heal than it did when I received the wound.  Maybe emotional healing is the same; it hurts worse before it can get better.

Sucking air in through my teeth I forced myself to believe it.  I WAS getting better.  Just cracked, not broken, just cracked.

 

 

He was laughing.  I hadn’t seen him laugh since before the alphas took him.  Oh, he smiled, eyes tight and hollow as lips formed the expected motion, but he hadn’t really laughed.  Not the carefree, happy sound that rolled out of him as he sat across from the large blond at the coffee shop.

I wanted to rip the skin from his bones for touching what was mine.  It was all I could do to keep my wolf at bay as the older man brushed his hand against Stiles’ as he reached for a napkin.  

Isaac made a high pitched whine as my anger begin to affect him.  Closing my eyes, I reined back my jealousy to a more manageable level.  “Do you know who he is?”

“No.  Stiles doesn’t really talk to us at school anymore.  Every time he sees us he seems to just slink away.  Scott’s the only one he even texts on a regular basis.”

Pulling out my phone a called Scott and demanded he get his ass to the Coffee Hut NOW.  I tried not to push my alpha status with Scott that often but this was an emergency and I needed someone for recognizance.  I didn’t like the looks of this new person in Stiles’ life.

Unfortunately Scott is mostly worthless.  By the time he showed up Stiles and the blond were long gone having exited the shop, leaving in separate cars after smiling and touching too much in the front of the store.

Leaving Isaac to fill Scott in on the Stiles situation, I followed the biker wanna-be as he drove his Charger through the town.  What would Stiles see in a man like that?  How pretentions could a guy be wearing a leather jacket when it was eighty degrees outside and the black on black just looked ridiculous.  

My blood chilled as the Charger pulled in front of the Argent house.  Not wanting to waste another moment I dialed directly to the source.  “Stiles!  What the hell are you doing with a hunter?”

There were a few seconds of silence as I heard Stiles fumble with his phone and take a couple of shuddering breaths.  He hadn’t known.  That bastard was using Stiles to get close to the pack.  He was going to break him into little pieces, the truce with Chris be damned.

“He’s not a hunter.  I mean his family is, cause he’s Chris’ nephew but he is not in the business.  And I was having coffee with him.  What does it matter who I have coffee with.  Crap!  You think I would tell him information about the pack.  Fuck, Derek, what do I have to do for you to trust that I would never let something harm your pack?  I would die first.  You paranoid shit, I almost did!”

It’s hard to slam a cell phone but Stiles’ made an impressionable click as he hung up on me.  My steering wheel creaked under the pressure of my grip as I fought for control of my anger.  Why is it that I can never seem to say the right thing with Stiles?  Every word I says seems to be taken as the complete opposite of what I meant.  I know that I have trouble with the emotional part of dealing with people but this was insane.  I seriously can’t be this messed up.

I was so busy berating myself for handling Stiles wrong again that I didn’t even hear Chris approach the side of my car until he tapped on the passenger window before letting himself into my car.

“I guess you have seen my nephew and Stiles.”  I didn’t mean to growl but I couldn’t form words at that point without screaming.  “I know you don’t want advice from me but I will give it to you anyway.  Stiles is human and all he has ever received from you and your pack is death and pain.  I know you never mean for him to be hurt but think of everything he has been through since you came into his life.  I know you feel strongly toward him, you wouldn’t have come to me for help if you didn’t, but maybe you need to stop thinking of what you want and think about what is best for Stiles.”

The plastic cracked under my hand, claws flashed briefly and I had that sharp edged vision that let me know my eyes had gone red.  Chris sat stoically as I flashed between human and wolf.  “Your control is usually better than this, Derek.”

“I know.  It’s Stiles.”

“Don’t you think it is best if he finds his own way to heal?  Give him some space.”  Chris slapped my knee in a friendly way and left.  When did my life become so twisted that I was taking relationship advice from the man whose sister killed my entire family.

The worst thing was that I knew he was right.  If I forced my way in, I would just push Stiles further away.  Maybe he needed some normal, human friends in order to start the healing process.  

It hurt; it hurt more than I ever thought I could feel again but I pulled away from the curb and promised myself I would give Stiles the space he needed.  But lacking Stiles I was broken and I didn’t know how to start to piece myself together without him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and the Sheriff have a talk about Stiles.

I’ll be the first to admit that following Stiles and Jack around, sneaking into his bedroom to see what kinds of scents were left behind on his clothes after spending time with the overgrown blond, and getting Danny to activate Stiles’ GPS on his phone so I could track him were just a little stalker-ish.  But in my defense, he had been kidnapped and hurt before and I was just trying to keep him safe.

At least that is the story I am going to stick to if confronted.

The LOOK Sheriff Stilinski gave me when he caught me in Stiles’ room told me that I could lie to myself but not him.  I held a dark Batman shirt loosely in my hands, twisting it back and forth to release the scents without having to bring it to my nose.  Being found with the shirt pressed to my face, inhaling the scents of Stiles and his friend would have been more than I was ready to own up to at this point.

“How long are you planning on keeping this up?  I could just make you a key like the rest of the pack.  I always wanted a big family but having a bunch of werewolves climbing through my windows was never quite what I had in mind.”

I had expected yelling and threats.  The warm hand on my shoulder that gently urged me to my feet and guided me down the stairs was more than I could ever hope for.

Sitting at the kitchen table I watched as he made sandwiches and coffee.  Placing a plate in front of me, sandwich cut in half diagonal with a stack of chips on the side; he settled across the table from me and sighed.

“Is this behavior normal for werewolves?  Because I’m telling you Derek, for humans it’s not even borderline creepy.  It’s full out, call for the padded rooms, stalker on the loose level of creepy.”

I felt my lips curving in a smile.  “You sound like Stiles.”

The sheriff chuckled as he leaned back in his seat, sipping the coffee and eyeing me over the rim.  “Did you think I could have lived with him for seventeen years and not be infected by him?”

“I don’t trust Jack.”  I took a bite of my sandwich while I tried to organize my thoughts.  I find it hard to explain scents and heartbeat ticks to humans.  I am amazed how they function when they are so blinded to their surroundings.

“I don’t trust him either.  This is why I haven’t stepped in with your sudden stalking of my son.  Now tell me why you don’t trust him.”

“His scent is wrong.  His body language shows interest.  He leans forward when Stiles speaks, touches him in passing.”  My voice dropped to a growl as I said that.  I didn’t like that Jack touched Stiles.  I didn’t want anyone to touch Stiles.  “Jack laughs at the right times, makes lots of eye contact, and all the little things that someone who **_is in a relationship_** is supposed to do.” I could tell that I wolfed out by the sudden stillness on the other side of the table.  I forced my claws back to their human form before I scratched up the sheriff’s furniture.

“So he is doing everything that a person should be doing when going on a date.  That doesn’t explain why you don’t trust him.”

“Because he is DOING it but not FEELING it.  His actions are spot on but his scent, his heart beat tell a different story.”  I pushed my plate away and paced back in forth across the small kitchen.  I didn’t know how to make the sheriff see, to understand the lie that Jack was telling with his scent.

“You’re saying it’s all an act.  But why?”   I could see where Stiles got his intelligence, his ability to take the smallest bits of a puzzle and manage to see the whole.  His father was the same way.  His eyes tracked back and forth as he sorted through the information in his brain, no fragment too small to be considered.  “So if the relationship is a lie than he wants Stiles for something.  Do you think he is after your pack?  I thought you and Chris had a truce.”

“We do and Chris isn’t lying about it.  He is holding up his end and I have made sure that my pack is following every detail of the agreement.  I don’t know why he would try to use Stiles to get to my pack.  He’s pushed us so far away that sometimes I think he is trying to erase us from his memory.”  I hated sounding so weak, so needy but the words slipped out before I could bite them back.  “Does he hate us so much?”

“Oh son.”  Sheriff dropped his head into his hands.  “He doesn’t hate you.  I think it’s the complete opposite.  He just doesn’t think that you want him anymore.  He feels like he is a burden to you and that the only reason you even pretend to let him be a part of your pack because of guilt.”

My knees buckled, dropping me back into the chair.  “How could he….why would he think…what did I do that made him feel that way?”

“It’s nothing you said or did.  He went through something horrible.  The things that monster, “the sheriff paused, catching himself on the word but I growled in agreement and he continued.  “That monster did things to him that made him question his worth.  Did you know that most rape victims blame themselves?  They keep asking what THEY did to deserve it, what THEY did that made their attacker pick them.  Just think what Stiles could concoct in his brain.”

I could imagine the things that Stiles would come up with but I knew that whatever I could imagine, Stiles could come up with something ten times worse.  “I have to talk to him.  Get him to understand, make him understand that this was not his fault.”

“Maybe you need to fix the little things first.”  The sheriff followed my mad dash to the door and stopped me from opening it with a hand to its frame.  “You need to tell him what you did.  Tell him that you went to the Argents and agreed to a treaty that is unjustly one sided and exposed the whole werewolf situation to me all to save Stiles.  Tell him what you did to save him.  He doesn’t know.  He thinks it was all for Boyd and Erica and that he was just an afterthought.”

My mother would have teased me that I was trying to catch flies, jaw open in utter shock.  “He was my only thought.”

“Then let him know that.”


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Stiles have a date. Jack has plans for Stiles.

Pulling up outside the Argent house I watched as Jack trotted down the walk his smile widening as he came closer.  He was carrying a large backpack with my ‘surprise’ in it.  We had been dating for almost a week and I was starting to feel like I was just leading him on.

He was cute, hell, he was gorgeous with his sandy blond hair and tan skin but I didn’t feel that spark when I was with him.  I didn’t want to keep dating someone just because they reminded me of Derek.  And when I was honest with myself that was the only reason I had even said ‘yes’ to the offer of coffee that first time.  Leather jacket, black jeans, and a total lack of anything that could be considered a color, he was a reverse image of my alpha.  

“Hey, good to see you.”  Jack leaned over and kissed me, resting his hand briefly on my knee as he smiled into my eyes.  I felt like a total shit.  I should tell him before we went of this date but he had been hinting about this surprise for a couple of days now and I didn’t want to destroy something he had spent so much time on.  

“Where to?”  Jack buckled in and then let his hand drop back to my leg sliding it up to my thigh and letting his fingers linger along the inseam of my jeans.  It should have been sexy but I just kept thinking about how I could get him to take it off without hurting his feelings.

“Head to Beacon’s Glen.  They have that old railroad trestle outside the park.”  A flash of white from his smile and the quick squeeze of my leg made my stomach churn.  I was such a shit.  At least when I was mooning over Lydia she never gave me the time of day; never let it seem that I had a chance in hell of getting her.  There has to be some level of hell for assholes like me that lead people on.  

“That’s near pack territory.”

“Stiles, you never told me what happened but I know it was bad.  You can’t let your fear of the pack rule your life.  We will be miles away from the center of their territory and they won’t even know we are there.  Plus, it a beautiful spot for a picnic.  Please?  I’ve really worked hard on this.”  What could I say to that?  I turned left and headed toward the preserve hoping that the pack was all well away from the Glen.

Jack held my hand as we walked toward the Glen.  The light from the midday sun flowed dappled through the leaves causing the dust to form golden motes in the air ahead of us.  I found myself thinking that with Derek this could have been magical but that was never going to happen.  I needed to stop torturing myself over people I could never have, never be worthy of having.

The trestle was majestic in its rusting glory, arched supports lifting gracefully against the sky.  Jack led me to the center hopping from beam to beam with barely contained joy.  My guilt felt like a twenty pound bowling ball being pressed into my chest.

Swinging down to dangle black clad legs over the short drop to the river below Jack motioned for me to sit next to him on the wide ledge.  We sat in silence, legs kicking back in forth as we watched the river flow below us.  Jack stripped the leaves from a weed and tossed them down creating green boats to be swept away by miniature currents.  

“This is harder than I thought it would be.”  My heart dropped, heavy with dread at the tone of this conversation.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings but I knew I couldn’t keep up this charade any longer.  “I find myself really liking you.  I didn’t expect to and it makes this all the more difficult.”

“I don’t understand.”  But part of me did.  I guess I wasn’t the only one pretending.

“He killed my aunt.  He killed my family and the Argents just let him live.  Let his daughter pollute her blood by dating an abomination.  And to make matter worse, they formed a treaty with that filth, a treaty to save your life.”

It was like winter struck in an instant.  My skin chilled sending goose bumps prickling up my arms and forcing my hair to stand on end.  I should have run at that very moment but the shock kept me in place as if nailed to the plank below me.

“At first I was just going to hunt him down, kill him like the worthless cur he is but when I heard about the lengths he went to save you I realized that death was too good for him.  I wanted him to hurt, to agonize for the rest of his miserable life.”

“You’re going about this all wrong then.  He didn’t do any of that to save me.  He needed to save his pack, I was just the incentive to get my dad involved to help him and keep everything covered up.”

Jack’s laughter was too joyful.  Smug ass evil bastards should have sinister laughs; they shouldn’t sound like boy scouts coming home from camp. “You are smarter than that Stiles.  He loves you.  He was ready to die for you.  When I first got to town that’s all Alison and Chris could talk about was how torn up Derek was about your injuries and how he blamed himself for your panic attacks.  The ‘poor Derek’s’ and ‘poor Stiles’ were enough to make me sick.  But it did make my revenge easier.  Taking out a werewolf alone is almost impossible.  Taking out a foolish teenager is a snap.”

“You can’t believe you will get away with this.  My father’s the sheriff and he will have you thrown in jail before my body is even cool.”  Jack grabbed my arm holding me in place as he continued to smile his charming grin.

“But that is why my plan is so perfect.  I’m not going to kill you Stiles.  You are going to commit suicide.  After the way you have been acting, no one will even be surprised.  I’ll play the part of heart sick lover.  I bet I can even spill a few tears at your funeral.  It’s perfect.”

Jack reached into his pack and pulled out a length of rope.  I guess he thought I was just going to let him string me up without a fight because he looked completely surprised when I caught him across the jaw with my fist.

Using his moment of blinding pain against him I dropped down the eight feet to land waist deep in the stream below.  Ignoring the cries of ‘you little shit’ I waded my way to the bank and took off running toward my jeep.  Four years of lacrosse and two years of dealing with werewolves meant that I had lots of practice running.

Just not enough, I thought as Jack tackled me from behind and slammed my body and face into the path.  I came up bloodied from my lips and nose.  I could feel the swell that meant my nose had been broken again.  If I kept this up I was going to look like an out of luck boxer by the time I made it to college; if I made it to college.

“Looks like your plan just went to shit, Jack.  Who is going to believe that I broke my own nose and split my lip before hanging myself?  You are the last person I was seen with, my dad knows we were going on a date today, and Derek will be able to smell me all over you.  Give it up.  Your plan isn’t going to work.”

“Guess I will have to go to Plan B.”  Jack wasn’t smiling anymore.  In fact he looked pissed as he pulled the gun from the back of his jeans.  Swearing I lunged forward to grab the gun using all my strength to twist and turn, fighting to keep the gun from pointing in my direction.  

I had sworn to myself as I lay in the hospital recovering from injuries I should have died from that I would never let myself be a victim again, never be helpless as someone else used violence against me.  Struggling for the gun I realized that I had traded one type of victim for another.  By allowing fear to rule my life I had trapped myself in that role.  

I would be really pissed if that was my last thought before I died.  I could feel Jack’s finger reaching the trigger and I pushed myself upward, leaning forward and up on my toes to bring my head into star spangling contact with Jack’s granite skull.  

Jack’s nose split open with a gush of red and the gun went off silencing the forest with its report.  


	7. Chapter 7

**_His eyes were a cold blue like wet winter days filled with clouds and the threat of bone chilling rain.  How could he have been fooled?   Those eyes never held the warmth of friendship or the growing passion of romance; they had held the glaze of revenge and bloodlust._ **

The sound of my engine always calmed me, its deep purr soothing and conductive to untangling knotted thoughts about a certain human who had managed to work his way into my life to the point that I was no longer whole without him.  My conversation with the sheriff replayed in my head.  The advice was sound and I had been given his unspoken permission to court his son.  Damn, I would never say that out loud, my pack would never let me live it down.  

I needed to talk to Stiles, to somehow explain that he was never the afterthought but the whole reason for the rescue.  It was for him and only him that I went to the Argents, blood of my families’ murderer, to beg for help.  It was for him that I exposed my pack to the sheriff, risking not only my life but the lives of three other teens as well.  I just didn’t know how to string the sentences together.  It seemed that every time I spoke to Stiles these days I caused more pain, more misunderstandings between us.  My every move to bring us closer only drove us further apart. 

My hand was resting on the stick, ready to shift into reverse when the sheriff pounded on my hood.  “Derek, there’s been shots fired at Beacon’s Glen.”  I stared at the sheriff in confusion and anger.  “Stiles is on a date with Jack at the Glen.”  He didn’t take time to say more just ran to his car and pulled out of the driveway in a blaze of red and blue lights.

**_The pain registered before the sound even reached his ears, a cold punch to his ribs that spread icy fingers of pain outward along his side.  He was surprised that his next huffed breath didn’t create of mist cloud in front of his face._**

**_He let his body drop, pushing both hands up with the same motion catching a glimmer of deadly steel as it brushed by his cheek.  Twisting under and around, aligning himself on the inside of his grasp.  Thrusting his elbow up and back he felt it strike, not the solid crunch of shattered cartilage of a nose but a softer impact of a throat’s column._ **

Even with the sirens blaring, clearing the cars ahead of us and opening lanes of traffic through lights and intersections it was still too slow for my liking.  I dialed Stiles and listened as the phone rang until it turned over to voicemail.  I couldn’t disconnect, I just listened as Stiles’ voice made snide comments about his level of importance and possible willingness to call one back.  I fought down the thought that it would be the last time I heard his voice.  Ignored the terror that this time I would be too late to save him, that this time it would be his lifeless body I carried out instead of his broken one.

My phone buzzed beside me and I answered it before the first ring had a chance to finish.

“He’s not answering his phone.”  The sheriff’s voice as calm but even through the phone and over the siren’s wail I could hear the pounding of his heart.  It was the crescendo of panic, the thunder of desperation and my heart echoed along.

“He will be alright.  He has to be alright.”  

**_Boots would have been better but even in his worn Nike’s his heel made a solid impact on the instep of the other foot.  The muzzle of the gun was warm in his hand.  The grip was slippery with sweat making it easier to wrench, the small bones of the trigger finger snapping and popping as they broke under the strain._ **

**_He fumbled with the falling metal with both hands pulling it to his chest to keep it from hitting the ground or being reclaimed.  His finger found the trigger on its own accord, sliding in as if coming home._ **

The sheriff was the first responder to the scene.  Groups of panicked people milled about like frightened cattle.  I could hear him questioning, trying to find the direction of the shot, locate some sign of Stiles.  But I didn’t rely on weak human senses.  Over the smell of sunscreen and picnic lunches I could smell the cloying scent of blood, thin, faint and Stiles’.

“Sheriff,” I barked as I took off down the path dropping down on all fours to increase my speed not caring if I gave away my precious secret focused only on getting to Stiles.

The smell of blood strengthened.  I could pick up the individual scents of Stiles, his fear tainted sweat, the sweeter taste of flesh wound blood and not the darker tang of organ blood leaking into the ground.   My world became the smell of Stiles’ blood, the sound of my heart, and the feel of the dirt beneath me as I poured everything I had into getting to his side.

**_His eyes were a cold blue like wet winter days filled with clouds and the threat of  bone chilling rain.  He laid gasping fish like on the forest floor.  The blood spread, Rorschach like in their design across his chest and shoulder._ **

There was a body on the ground.  A body.  

“Stiles,” the word was a harsh prayer to the universe that I wasn’t too late.  My chest burned with fear almost blocking out the duel beats of frantic hearts.

It wasn’t a body.  It was Jack, still alive but bleeding into the forest floor, blood seeping into the earth below him, staining it darker with its red hues.

Stiles was leaning against a tree, gun pointed at Jack’s body in a two handed grip, his eyes empty and dark.

“Stiles.”  I kept my movements slow so not to spook him as I approached.

“He was using me to get to you.  Why would he think that I would be a good weapon against you?  Someone from the pack would have been a better choice, better than me, worth more to you than me.”

“Let me have the gun Stiles.”  Brown eyes looked at me, full of sadness and pain as he offered the gun with trembling hands.

“Why would he think it was me?”

My lips were forming ‘because it’s always been you’ as the sheriff came sprinting into view.

“Stiles, oh God, Stiles.”  I held back the growl as the sheriff took his son into his arms and hugged him tight.  I listened as he sobbed out Jack’s plan to kill him and make it look like suicide.  Fury painted my vision red and my claws were at the bastard’s throat without a conscience thought, held off by millimeters by the sheriff’s unyielding grip on my arm.

“Don’t do it son, don’t do it.”  I let the rage recede to ebb like the tide back into the darkest reaches of my soul.  

I pulled my outer shirt off and pressed it to Stiles’ bloody side while his dad called in a report.  His trembling body leaned into me as if seeking warmth and I gladly pulled him deeper into my embrace.  

All the way back to the parking lot, where the police cars gathered casting red and blue shadows on the faces of the gawkers, Stiles used me for support.  We sat side by side on a bench while the paramedic looked at the shallow gunshot wound on his side.

Finishing with his work the sheriff took Stiles from my protection, leading him to the ambulance and climbing in behind him.  I could hear his soft protest against returning to the hospital and plea for someone to get his jeep to safety before the vehicle pulled away, leaving me behind.

I stared at his blood coating the palm of my hand until dusk fell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Derek about his fears.

I sat across the street from the sheriff’s station as they loaded Jack into a police van for transportation to the larger holding facilities of another town to await his trial for my attempted murder.  The closer today’s date came the more my father and Scott had hovered at my side, circling to make sure I didn’t collapse into another panic attack or end up cowering in the back of my closet.

It actually came as a surprise to me that I wasn’t doing either one of those things but at this point I was tired of being scared, tired of being the one that everybody treated like porcelain, tired of being broken.  Because, yes, I had been broken but this whole thing with Jack had re-forged me, helping me to see that maybe I didn’t have to be ruled by my fear.  I didn’t let fear stop my when the alphas had me, tearing my body and leaving scars that went to my very soul.  If I could face those fears, I could face anything.

Even Jack.  

His blond head lifted briefly and I gave a jaunty wave out the window.  Dad saw me and hurried across the street mindless of traffic.  

“Hey, Dad.  You need to write yourself a ticket now for jaywalking.  You know you should watch both ways when crossing the street.”  

“Why are you here, Stiles?”  I noted the concern that underlined the gruff question.  I was wondering how long it would take before people stopped worrying about me so much.  

“I wanted to watch the bastard leave.  Too bad we can’t give him a Viking farewell, burning ships and the works.”  Dad leaned against my jeep and we watched the van pull away together.  I ignored the dozen or so concerned glances and let my arm brush his as I leaned out the window.  

“Dad, you’re a decent detective, right?”  Okay, after seeing the annoyed expression that passed over his face I realized that maybe that was not the best way to start this particular conversation.  “I mean, you are good at reading people.”

“Sometimes.   I didn’t do so well with Jack.”

I shrugged.  None of us had seen Jack for what he was.  “I was wondering more about Derek.  What did you think when he came to ask for your help?  I know he used me to get you to help save Boyd and Erica but did he, I don’t know, seem worried about me, seem to care about me?  Was I really in his thoughts at all or was I just a tool to get your corporation?”

I’ve heard the saying that the ‘silence was deafening’ but never understood it until I watched my dad’s eyes fall close and his head drop against his chest.  I waited, blood pounding in my ears creating a buzz that increased with each second of silence.

“He never even mentioned the other two, Stiles.  He didn’t even know they were there.  The only person we were there to rescue was you.  You were his only focus, his only thought as we went into that barn.”

“Oh,” I breathed out, stunned.  “Oh.”

“Maybe you should talk to him.  Maybe you should listen to him.  I don’t know why but it seems to me that a lot of why you are having so much trouble healing has something to do with Derek.”  Seeing my look of denial and anger, he continued quickly, “I’m not saying its Derek’s fault but it’s something to do with him, with the pack.”

Swallowing I forced myself to answer his unspoken question, to talk about the unspeakable.  “He said that after what he did.”  The words burned in my throat, images flashing behind my closed eyelids as I forced myself to continue.  “He said that after what he did to me, that Derek would never want me, never want me in his pack.  But it’s not like he could throw me out, not after all of this.”  I flailed my hands a bit to express the whole of it, the entire mess that my life had become.

Dad reached in the jeep and pulled me into an uncomfortable hug that had me pressed against his chest as I leaned out my window.  “Go talk to him son.”  Nodding I wiped the tears from my cheeks and started the engine.  

(*****************************************************)

I sat, parked behind Derek’s Camaro in front of the Hale house with my head resting onto of my steering wheel as I tried to decide what to do.  Most of me wanted to put my jeep in reverse and run away, just let things continue the way that had, let my insides keep festering away until they exploded and covered the walls of my bedroom with blood and gore.  

Yeah, I wasn’t freaking out.  Nope, I’m just as calm as a summer day.

Lifting my head I noticed that Derek had come out to stand on his porch.  I wonder how long he had been watching me in my jeep.  I hope I hadn’t been talking out loud.  Shit.  I did a quick rewind of my mental conversations with myself before giving in and stepping out of the jeep.

“Stiles.”  Derek was always the word smith.

I stopped halfway between the jeep and the steps leading to Derek.  He stood leaning lightly on the post, arms loose at his sides wearing nothing up a thin shirt and his dark jeans.  His feet were bare and crossed casually at the ankle.  Just looking at him made my breath catch.

“He said you would never want me.  In your pack, I mean.  That I would never be pack especially after what he did to me.  That you would never want me after he touched me like that.”  I couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to chance seeing the look of disgust that I fully expected him to feel in my presence.

“Why would you believe him?  Why listen to the monster that took you from the people who care about you, tortured you for days and almost killed you.  Why believe anything he says.”

My arms were wrapped so tightly around my waist that I was impeding my own breathing.  Each gasp that I forced into my lungs was a battle hard won.  “Because it’s what I think, what I’ve always believed.  You never wanted me.  I’ve never been pack just the stupid weak human that insists on tagging along and getting underfoot and has to be saved every damn day.”  My words came to a stumbling halt as my voice broke on the brink of a sob.

Derek stood for a moment at the top of the stairs and watched as I pulled myself back together.  “You have always been pack.”  He said it slowly, enunciating each syllable as he took a step down.  “You were never the weak human.”  Another step.  “You were never under foot.”  The ground was beneath his bare feet as he picked up speed.  “And you have saved the day more times than the rest of the pack combined.”  Derek stopped just short of where I stood and looked me in the eye.  “And I have always wanted you.”


	9. Chapter 9

I watched from the front window as Stiles drove his jeep up and parked behind my car.  Even through the windows I could hear him talking to himself, both urging himself to talk to me and listing the reasons he should turn and run.  I stepped onto the porch, leaning against the wooden post as he rambled on.  I was hoping he would come to the right decision but if he tried to run I was going to do my best to stop him.  It was past time we talked. 

He lifted his head and looked straight at me and my cheat clinched.  I hated seeing him like this, torn and indecisive.  I missed the young man that acted so purely on emotions and feeling, hoping that he hadn't lost that in the pain of his ordeal. He paused by the door of the jeep as if waiting for my permission to come closer.  "Stiles," I called trying to sooth him.  He jerked forward a step as I called his name, then walked quickly toward me, his eyes locked on the dirt and gravel at his feet until he was half way to the porch.  

He stopped and looked up at me for the first time and froze. At first I thought he was going to panic again, the sound of his heart pounded in my ears and I could hear the blood rush beneath his skin.  I tried to stay still so as not to spook him but then the shifting breeze brought me his scent.  Yes, there was fear but under it all was the heady scent of his attraction.  He bit his lip, a nervous habit that I had grown to love.  Running a hand through hair that was becoming almost shaggy he started a rapid flow of words, words that carried the changing scents of terror and shame with them. 

"He said you would never want me. In your pack, I mean. That I would never be pack especially after what he did to me. That you would never want me after he touched me like that." He didn't look at me as he spoke, not until the last word and then he met my stare with a look of resignation, as if waiting for me to turn him away, expecting me to agree with that bastard's words.

I held on to my anger, swallowed it down.  I wouldn't let Stiles see how much his belief that I would feel that way hurt me.  It wasn't his fault.  He had been through so much and if he needed to rail against me, throw pain filled glances that cut like knives then I would take all he had and more. 

Quietly I asked, "Why would you believe him? Why listen to the monster that took you from the people who care about you, tortured you for days and almost killed you. Why believe anything he says."

I was trying to reach out to him, ease his way to telling me more but his response had me thinking for a second that I had sent him into another panic attack.  He wrapped his arms around his waist so tightly that I could all most feel his ribs creak under the pressure.  His breath became shortened and labored, wet gasps sucked from between clinched teeth. "Because it's what I think, what I've always believed. You never wanted me. I've never been pack just the stupid weak human that insists on tagging along and getting underfoot and has to be saved every damn day." He sobbed once on the last word, body swaying from the strain of exposing his fears and opening himself up to his expectation of more pain.  Pain from my hand.  

I wanted to growl, to howl my frustration to the heavens.  He thought, he believed to his very core the words that spilled from his lips. My first thought was to tell him he was an idiot but that was how I treated the old Stiles, not the open wound of a man standing before me.  This Stiles needed a gentler touch, one that I wasn't sure I was able to give.  

While I fought with my own demons, Stiles seemed to overcome his own.  Standing straighter he waited for my answer.  I listened to his heart, the quick double thump, for another second and then I did what I should have done so many days before- I listened to my own. 

"You have always been pack." I took a slow measured step toward him, listening for a change in his rhythm, not wanting to scare him away. "You were never the weak human." There was an uptick but it wasn't fear, it was hope.  "You were never under foot."  That scent was back, the sweet smell of his want and I was pulled toward him, quickening my pace to reach his side. "And you have saved the day more times than the rest of the pack combined." I stopped in front of him trying desperately not to touch him, to allow that first touch to be on his terms, knowing that him reaching out to me would be so much more meaningful.

"And I have always wanted you." 

He didn’t throw himself into my arms; it was more of a stumble.  He took a hesitant step toward me and tripped right into my arms.  But once there he clung and didn’t let go.  He pressed his face into my chest, arms squeezing and his breath hitching while I let my nose press into his neck to rest along his pulse, taking in his scent.

Some things bear repeating.  “I have always wanted you, Stiles.” I eased him up the stairs and into the house, both of us falling onto the couch in a tangle of arms and legs.  Stiles pressed his head against my abdomen and just clung as I ran my hands through his hair and stroked his back, trying to offer comfort as he trembled in my lap.

I would have been ready to hold him like this for ever but SOME parts of my body didn’t understand the concept of taking it slow.  I tried to twist, searching for some way to get a pillow under Stiles’ head before he realized.  Damn, after all he had been through he didn’t need THAT popping up in his face.

“You really do want me.”  Stiles’ voice held a note of awe as he slowly uncurled to look up at me.  He pushed up, nose skimming along my shirt until we were eye to eye.  Cautiously he leaned in as if to give me time to pull away.  I let my hand slide up his arm to rest on his shoulder pulling him closer.  His lips hovered for a second, warm moist air filling in the millimeters between us with his scent.

“Stiles.”  I offered his name up like a benediction, a prayer,  a reverent plea. His first touch was just a press, lip to lip.  He leaned back, biting his lower lip as he contemplated my face and then slanted his head to kiss me again.  Aside from holding on to him in a grip that was just shy of bruising, I let Stiles dominate the kiss.  He licked his way in, traced the outline of my mouth and swirled and sucked my tongue until I was heady with desire.

I ran my hand up his back slipping under the thin shirt to trace the ridges of his spine and Stiles froze.  Shit!  I’m an idiot.  “Sorry,”  I whispered dropping my hands to my sides.  “Sorry.”

Stiles flopped back on the couch and smiled sadly at me.  “Not your fault.  But it’s going to take a while, ya know.  I wish I could just let you rip my shirt off and…”  Stiles blushed and ducked his head.  “Um, yeah, and you know.”

Chuckling I kissed his forehead.  “I know.  I can wait for as long as you need.  But one day I hope you will let me kiss and lick away the memory of that night from every scar on your body.  I want it to be so that each time you touch them all you think of is me touching you, loving you.”

I would have said more but suddenly my arms were full of brown eyed human, my lips kissed passionately.  “I want that too.”  We stayed that way, kissing and curling in each other’s warmth until the sun began to set.  

Walking him back to his jeep I tugged him closer by his belt loops before he had a chance to open the door to kiss him one last time.  “There’s a pack meeting tomorrow.  Maybe I could pick you up for it?  We could have dinner and watch a movie or something afterwards.”

Stiles let his whole body rest against mine, a long line of perfection.  “That sounds like a date.”

“A first of many I hope.”  With a quick nod and a smile that lit up his eyes, a smile I had almost lost hope of ever seeing again, Stiles hopped into his old jeep and waved as he drove away.  I stood there long past the point where the tail lights faded away and the sound of his engine went beyond even my hearing.  I stood listening to the sounds of the forest as I breathed in the last lingering scents of Stiles and mentally counted the hours until I could hold him again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later. Looking at Derek and Stiles' relationship.

 

Three Months Later

I watched the cubs play in the lake from the comfort of my bright red folding camp chair complete with foot rest and cup holders.  Stiles had seen it at the store and insisted I buy it so that I would have a ‘summer alpha throne’.  With the press of his hand against my chest I could deny him nothing.

The early summer sun was warm on my skin, the breeze from the lake bringing scents of water creatures, damp earth, and wet teen.  Pungent.  Stiles had yet to arrive, still insisting on driving to pack get-togethers on his own after the last pack meeting disaster.  

Three months had brought about an amazing change in Stiles.  Deciding he would no longer be the weakest link, not that he EVER was, Stile had thrown himself into a training regimen that was almost scary.  For an ADD, focus challenged individual, he sure could stick to a routine.

His first goal had been to convince Chris Argent to teach him everything he knew about hunting to the shock of us all.  Stiles had logically explained that he was the best person for learning the hunter trade.  He both loved the pack and knew the horrors of an uncontrolled werewolf.  Hearing the determination in his voice I had swallowed down my fear, Chris had nodded sagely, and Scott had grinned like an idiot.

“Awww you still love me.” Scott crowed, throwing his arms around Stiles and squeezing tight.

Stiles eyes had flashed a hint of panic before he pulled himself together to pat his friend on the back.  “Keep trying to break my ribs and I will love you just a little bit less.”

Between training with Chris and school, Stiles had devoted himself to studying with Deaton learning all the lore he had to offer and then delving deeper that the kindly vet could ever imagine.  More often than not Stiles now carried with him the scent of power, of herbs and knowing, rare woods and blue lightning.

Stiles had pulled in his father and the pack to help with his transformation as well.  His father worked with him on weekends at the shooting range discovering that his son was a natural shot.  The pack worked with sparing techniques and new weapons that Stiles crafted from mail ordered wood from exotic places.  By the end of the first month he was starting to pack a wallop both with his own growing strength and the sweet smelling resin that coated his staff.

I gave him the needed space for him to grow, to become whole once more.  I had promised that I would wait, give him the time he needed to become comfortable with me touching him but it was getting harder with each passing day.

The rattle and thump of the jeep stirred me from my contemplations and I tilted my head so that I could watch Stiles’ approach.  Stiles pulled into the empty space by my car with a flurry of dust as he applied the brakes at the last minute.  Arms loaded with supplies and snacks he stepped out wearing green board shorts and the most hideous shade of orange shirt I had ever seen.  My eyes actually watered at the sight.

“Hey Aquaman, come join us,” hollered Scott from the lake.  Stiles waved in reply but sauntered over in my direction.

He leaned down to deposit a quick kiss on my lips before setting up his own chair and putting an arrangement of snacks on the table.  I could smell his lemon cookies even with the layers of plastic wrap covering them.

“Did you bring my favorite?”

“Maybe.”  Stiles smiled over his shoulder and pulled out a couple of cookies and wrapped them in a napkin.  “You going to swim?”

I let out a negative sounding huff as I bit into the heaven that was Stiles’ cooking.  “You should though.  I’ll just watch you from the safety of the shore.”

I could tell that he wanted to by the way his eyes lingered on the water.  His fingers traced the edge of his shirt flipping the hem up and down as he thought.  No one had seen Stiles without his shirt since the hospital.  I know that he was covered back and front with scars, I had felt them as I caressed him but he had never removed his shirt.

“You can leave your shirt on.”  He narrowed his eyes at my suggestion plainly not happy with that idea.

“I only brought the one.  I don’t want to walk around all day in a wet shirt.”

“It will dry.”

“Shut up or I will bite your throat out.  With my teeth.”  Stiles snapped his teeth in my direction mockingly and I lifted my chin, exposing my throat in response.  Eyes wide, Stiles darted forward to trace the long line of my neck from hollow to chin, finishing with a nip to my bottom lip.  “Damn.  What are you trying to do to me?”

I knew what I wanted to do with him but I was practicing patience.  “So?  Swimming or sitting out with the old folks?” Taking up my challenge with a defiant look Stiles pulled his shirt up and over his head with one quick fluid motion.  

He wasn’t ripped but his chest was well defined tapering down to a stomach with a hint of a six pack forming.  The muscles of his shoulders and arms were long and lean like a runner, a gymnast, or more truthfully someone who had been working out with swords and staffs for the last three months.  His chest was hairless but a dusky trail of brown hair started at his navel where it swirled in a tempting circle before dropping lower beneath the waistband of his shorts.

His left side sported a cluster of tightly puckered circular scars left over from where claws had gripped him.  They were spaced between a set of three freckles making a constellation just above his hip.  “You have lupus on your hip,” I whispered reaching out to touch it with my thumb.

“The fuck?”  Stiles jumped and ran his hands down his sides frantically.  “Is it a rash?  How did I get lupus on my hip?  Oh hell, I’m I going to have to get shots for this?”

“It’s a constellation.  Your scars and freckles make the shape of the constellation lupus.  It means wolf.”  Stiles froze with a look which morphed into a wide smile.  

“Cool.”  He leaned forward and kissed me again.  “A wolf huh?  Maybe it’s a wolf I know.  Some sexy green eyed alpha.”

I growled into the kiss using two fingers to pull him closer so as not to pressure him and startle him away.  “I guess that makes you mine.”

“Yes,” Stiles breathed into me.  “I guess it does.”  With a last kiss he turned and ran to the lake leaping off the pier to cannonball into the water, spraying the rest of the pack.  I closed my eyes and let my other senses take over.  Listening to the sound of my happy pack and the smell of their joy mixing with the summer breeze.  

It was taking the whole pack to put the pieces of Stiles back together but at the same time he was mending what had been broken in us as well.  For the first time since the fire, I looked forward to a long summer. 


	11. Chapter 11

If they had been werewolves or anything the least supernatural I would have been on my guard before they had come within fifty feet of me but they were just plain humans and I was too busy flirting with Derek on the phone to notice their approach.  A sweet smelling rag was jammed across my nose and mouth while muscular arms lifted me quickly into the back of a dark colored van.  I could hear Derek’s shout as my phone dropped out of my fingers and tumbled to the ground. 

“We need to make sure the Argents get our message loud and clear.”  The men’s voices flowed over me as I struggled to fight the darkness that tunneled down upon me.  I felt them strip me of my wallet and keys.  My head flopping limply to the side as they pushed me upright and took a quick picture of me with my own phone before driving away.  

My last thought was to wonder why they were sending a message to the Argents before I slumped to the floor and the darkness consumed me.

I came too shackled with my hands behind my back and the group of men arguing about my limited future while standing over me brisling with arrows and guns.  “We need to make it clear that we won’t cotton to them making treaty with a bunch of curs.  We hunt the animals not let our daughters fuck them.”

“We’ll keep him alive until we get a response from the Argents.  I don’t like the idea of killing a human unless it’s absolutely necessary.”  Blood shot eyes dropped to where I lay on the floor, noticing that I was awake and listening.  “Better hope your worth something to him boy or you won’t be long for this earth.”

“You have no idea how fucked you are.”  My smart ass mouth got me a swift kick to the ribs.

 “Shut up boy.  I don’t want to hear anything from your werewolf loving mouth unless I ask you a direct question.  You hear me boy?  We should fucking wipe you from the face of the Earth when we clean out that nest of curs.  How hunters could allow themselves to fall in with the vermin is beyond me.”

“You think I’m a hunter?”  I couldn’t help the slightly manic giggle that escaped.  I guess all the training with Chris had paid off, just not in the way I had thought.  The hunters didn’t waste any more time with me, filing out of the small room and leaving me in the dark.  I could hear the blood thirsty one discussing the merits of killing me along with the Hale Pack.

“If they side with the curs they should die with the curs.”  I had to roll my eyes at the shit poor attempt at a motto.  

I listened for a few more minutes to make sure none of the hunter purists were heading back my way before I started working on getting out my emergency stash of mountain ash, willow bark, and hawthorn slivers.  I had starting keeping them, ground to a fine powder, inside hollow beads that I wear around my neck and wrist.  The individual beads keep the ingredients separated enough that it doesn’t bother the cubs but close enough that I can get to them when needed.

Even cuffed I could break apart a couple of the beads, letting their contents pool into the palms of my hands.  A few twists of my wrists and a moment or two contorted with my hands lifted above my back was all I needed to coat the cuffs with the mixture.  

Closing my eyes I focused until I could hear the soft click of the cuffs unlocking and they dropped from my wrists with a soft clunk.  Smiling I spent the next few minutes emptying the rest of the beads into a small pile.  It wasn’t much but it was more than enough to bide myself a little time until Derek came crashing through the door.  

If the idiots out in the front think I’m a hunter than they would not have thought to cover their scent.  Derek and the rest of the pack were most likely less than an hour from coming to my rescue.  All I really needed to do was sit back, keep myself alive, and wait to see if the hunters pissed their pants when Derek showed up.

But the truth of the matter is that I am tired of being rescued.  I sat and the dark contemplating my choices.  I could stay low, stay safe and let Derek do his knight in shining armor stick or I could take a stand.  Not really much of a choice.  I hadn’t spent the last six month re-forging   the broken bits of myself into a stronger whole to just sit by and play the role of helpless maiden in distress.  

Fuck that.  I was saving myself this time.

They hadn’t even locked the bedroom door assuming that the cuffs would keep me in place as I awaited my fate.  I moved silently down the short hallway listening to the low murmur of the men as they watched TV and the pop-hiss of beers being opened.

From the shadows I let a small bit of the ash mixture pour across the flat of my hand and blew it toward the oblivious men.  Each mote burned green for a second before disappearing.  Scott calls this my invisibility cloak but in reality it’s just a ‘don’t look at me’ spell, nothing really difficult.

From the inbred hunter’s point of view the TV just became a little more interesting, the beer suddenly tasted better, and any thought they have of me being locked in the back bedroom get pushed to the backs of their little minds as they relax after a hard day of kidnapping.

I wished I had my staff with me but the old kitchen broom resting in the doorway will make an acceptable substitute.  I sent another pinch of powder blowing across the room, this time burning a deep burgundy, and reached for the broom.  It came sliding toward my out-stretched hand at the same time all the guns in the room moved further away from the hunters.

I had to lean against the wall for a second to catch my breath.  Moving objects was a difficult spell and not one of my more powerful abilities even though I practiced it almost constantly behind Deacon’s back.  Newton’s laws apply to magic as well as physics.  Objects at rest want to stay at rest; it takes a lot of energy to make them move.  

I silently twisted the head off the broom while sketching out a plan in my head.  There were five trained hunters and one of me but I had surprise and a little bit of magic on my side.  I was probably screwed but I pushed the negativity aside and focused on taking out as many of them as I could.

Moving with the speed that only a person who regularly works out with werewolves can achieve, I was across the room and had two men down before the rest could even rise to their feet.  The burly blond went for his gun which, thanks to me, was just out of his reach.  With a tap of the broom handle I sent it spinning further across the room.

Weaving the bright yellow pole in a deadly figure eight around my waist and head I let the momentum add extra strength to my thrust into the diaphragm of the hunter trying to come up behind me before sweeping the legs out from under the one charging me from the front.  In less than a minute I had two out cold, two on the ground and one reaching for a shot gun.  

Letting the pole continue to twirl in one hand I focused on the burgundy flecks still potent in the air.  I pushed with my will and they flared briefly in response.  The cold handle of the pistil slapped into my empty hand and I spun, clean and smooth, and aimed at the last hunter.  He jerked and twisted back as the bullet hit him in the shoulder.  Pressing a hand to the seeping wound the man slid to the floor with a look of shock on his face.

I could hear the man behind me, still fighting for breath after being hit in the diaphragm, trying to reach for his gun.  Twirling the pole one last time I slammed it down hard on his hand not in the least unset as I felt and heard it break under the pole’s tip as I kicked the gun away.

Broom stick tucked under my arm and a pistil gripped in my hand I motioned all the conscience men to one side of the room.  I could hear the roar of Derek’s Camaro as it screeched to a halt outside the small house.  

“What the fuck are you?” gasped the leader just as Derek kicked the door down and charged into the room in his alpha form.

“His.”  I smiled at the sight of Derek, ebony fur and red eyes shining, as he stood panting with fury in the center of the room.  My dad had told me that Derek had completely transformed during his rescue but seeing it with my own eyes was so much better.  Seven feet of fur and death shouldn’t be this much of a turn on.  

Derek’s confused tilt of his head was almost comical.  The rest of the pack filed in ready for battle only the pause, look in disbelief at the downed hunters, and smile in my direction.

Isaac pulled out a phone and dialed.  “We’ve got him.  Yes, sir, he’s safe.  I think he rescued himself this time.”  With a smile he pocketed his phone and seconds later I could hear sirens in the distance.  “Your father was kind enough to give us first go.”

Derek shifted back to human and the rest of the pack started to take off as the sirens came closer.  Derek, wearing tattered jeans and nothing else stood by my side as my dad stormed through the door with his deputy.

Dad eased the gun out of my hand before pulling me into a hard hug that squeezed the air from my lungs.  “You’re going to be the death of me son if you keep getting taken like this.”

“Sorry Dad.”  I could feel the buildup of tears threatening to spill over as I pressed my forehead into his shoulder.  

Dad pushed away a step, his hand clutching the back of my head until he could rest his forehead against mine.  “I’m not blaming you son.  Don’t think for a second that I would want you any other way that just as you are.”

I nodded and hugged him tight.  Dad looked over my shoulder at Derek and they shared a moment of total understanding.  It was weird.  I never thought they would get alone but they seemed to have bonded over their shared need to protect me.  With a gentle push Dad handed me off to Derek’s care as he took custody of the hunters.

“Come on Stiles, I’ll take you back home.”

We both got into the car and silence, driving more than half way to my house before I broke it.  “Can we stop and get a hamburger?  I’m starving.”

Derek braked and crossed a lane of traffic to pull into the burger joint but instead of pulling into the drive thru he parked in the back of the parking lot and pulled my into a heated embrace kissing me until I saw sparks and running his hands under my shirt, tracing the silvery path of my scars.  “God, Stiles,” he moaned.  I knew it wasn’t the kiss, that he was reliving his last rescue, remembering finding me in a pool of my own blood.

“I’m not that person anymore Derek.  I’ve made sure that I will never be the weak link in the pack again.”

“I never thought you were weak.”

I smiled and pulled him back to for another kiss.  It was if I could feel the last crack fill, the shattered boy that Derek had pulled out of the barn was whole again.  Straddling Derek I ran my hands down the smooth expanse of his chest, nipped a line across his collar bone and sat on his horn alerting everyone to our impromptu make-out session.  

“Damn, that was not smooth.”  Blushing I pulled myself away and slid back into my seat.  “I guess you better buy me some dinner now.”

Letting my fingers trace patterns along the inseam of Derek’s pants I smiled.  It was good to feel whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why random words are underlined. I can't seem to fix it. Sorry!


End file.
